


I'm Starting To Want You To Make Me

by ShamelessHo (EeeGee)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Height difference, M/M, Power Play, arguing over who's the best Avenger, but it's not bad, talking about sexy times, warning for throat grabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EeeGee/pseuds/ShamelessHo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey are arguing over who's the best Avenger. They get a bit... worked up about it.</p><p>Title is a Tony Stark quote from The Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Starting To Want You To Make Me

“I’m not even fuckin’ arguing about this anymore.” Mickey huffs, reaching for his cigarettes.

Ian laughs. “What argument? You just told me I was wrong, like two seconds ago. And _why_ am I wrong? Just because you have a hard-on for that suit.”

“Because it’s fuckin’ _awesome_ that’s why! Who the hell wouldn’t? Even _Mandy_ has a hard-on for that suit.” Mickey blows out smoke between sentences.

“Nope. Mandy likes Hawk-Eye.”

Mickey gives a derisive snort, “Hawk-Eye’s a fuckin’ pussy.”

Ian reaches for the cigarette and Mickey passes it, “So basically, if they don’t have Iron Man’s suit, they’re a pussy?”

“Exactly,” Mickey nods, “I mean, who the fuck likes Thor anyway?”

“What?! He’s a fucking GOD.” Ian is indignant.

“Bull. Shit. You just wanna fuck him.” Mickey smirks at him.

Ian blushes a little, but he doesn’t back down, “Yeah, so? Like you wouldn’t fuck Iron Man given half the chance?”

“Well now are we talking actual Iron Man or Tony Stark?” Mickey takes back the cigarette, “Because Iron Man’s technically a fuckin’ robot, and that’s not.... Yeah that’s weird. But Stark? Hell yeah, I’d fuck Stark. And all the money that comes with him? _Nice_ bonus.”

Ian stands up, “Okay, you’ve given this _way_ too much thought, Mickey.” He goes into the kitchen.

Mickey stubs out the cigarette and gets up to follow him, but stops. There’s a short pause and then he says, “Wouldn’t have thought Thor was your type to be honest.”

It’s on the tip of Ian’s tongue to mess with Mickey now. To say “Jealous?” and start making fun, but when he turns to look at Mickey, who of course has all the outward appearance of nonchalance that he always does, he stops short. There’s something in Mickey's eyes, and the way he’s standing – kind of tense - that he just can’t do it.

There’s also no way he’s going to start giving Mickey loads of compliments either, because nobody hates a pity party more than Mickey and quite frankly, Ian’s knows that’s not the way to make him feel better either.

So instead, he plasters a cheeky grin on his face, and saunters back into the living room. “Hmm. You’re probably right. I definitely like to be the bigger guy in the relationship.”

“Oh ha ha,” Mickey frowns, but Ian just continues.

“I’m thinking Thor would definitely want to be the top in the relationship. And I’m not sure if I like the thought of him putting his huge Mjolnir anywhere.” He bears down on Mickey, taking full advantage of the fact that he is a good head taller than him, practically going up onto his tiptoes so that Mickey has to tilt his head right back to look into his eyes.

Ian’s smile is gone now, and he can almost feel the excess light getting in through his blown pupils, “You know how I like to work you open with my fingers, lick into you, make you squirm. How I always just want to hold on to your hips and _pound_ into you.” Ian pops the ‘p’ on “pound” and Mickey swallows, almost convulsively. “I don’t think Thor would let me do any of that. Do you?”

Ian has Mickey backed up against the side of the couch now. He’s towering over him. Their bodies are pressed together, and Mickey is shaking his head ever so slightly in response to Ian’s question.  
  
Ian licks his lips at his view - Mickey’s exposed throat - and he suddenly wants to grab it. Not hard, just a little show of power. The power thing is obviously doing it for Mickey. Ian can practically smell the arousal coming off the shorter man in waves, and there’s a pretty insistent press of an erection against Ian’s lower thigh.

The height difference between them makes Ian so unbelievably hot, that even when they’re apart he’ll jerk off thinking about it. Sometimes it feels like the only thing he has over Mickey, whose attitude more than makes up for the lack of inches, and Ian likes to play into this, especially during sex.

Mickey loves it. Ian knows he loves it. He loves being a bottom, having Ian curled around him, thrusting into him as hard as he can, one long arm around him holding him in place, the hand digging bruises into his hip, the other arm reaching around to stroke his cock. He loves it when Ian pushes him up against a wall and has to lift him slightly before lowering him back down again until he's right inside, actually holding Mickey up to fuck him, arm muscles standing to attention. He loves it that there are only certain items of furniture that Ian can bend him over to get the angle just right for both of them, so he can fuck Mickey until he can’t see straight.

Ian _knows_ how much Mickey loves it because Mickey turns into a jabbering wreck whilst Ian pulls him apart, and because the noises Mickey makes are absolutely phenomenal, and _this_ is what Ian thinks about when he’s jerking off.

Right now though, he doesn’t need to jerk off. He slowly wraps a hand around Mickey’s throat, feels the Adam’s apple duck and rise beneath his palm, and a smile spreads across his face. With his other hand, he reaches between Mickey’s legs and presses a hand to his dick. Mickey lets out a moan, and Ian slightly tightens the hand around his neck. The moan becomes more like a squeak. Ian licks his lips and Mickey shoves his hips forward.

Ian lets go of Mickey’s throat and pushes him back over the couch, until he is lying back, his legs dangling from the knees over the side. Then he steps round, kneels one leg astride Mickey’s waist, leaves the other planted on the floor and just stares down.

Mickey is literally writhing beneath him. “Stop squirming,” Ian says and Mickey does. “I’m going to _make_ you do that.”

“Fuck, Ian," Mickey’s eyes go wide, "I want you to fuckin’ touch me. Can you just... touch me.”

“Where?” Ian asks.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. _Fuck._ ” Mickey is trembling with the effort not to move.

A slow smile spreads across Ian’s face, and he leans down to kiss Mickey. Tantalisingly slow.

Mickey shakes his head more insistently, his lips against Ian’s, then he pulls back. “No. No way. You can’t get me all fuckin’ worked up and then go slow. That’s not what Iron Man would do.”

Ian sits up fast. “Wait, what?”

“Your little power trip.” Mickey stares up at him, eyes black, “ _VERY_ fuckin’ hot. Very Tony Stark. And if he isn’t a motherfuckin’ top then I don’t know who is.”

“Hmm...,” Ian thinks for a moment, “Yep. That’s true. Stark would totally just take what he wanted, wouldn’t he?”

He grinds his hips down.

Mickey nods vehemently, eyes rolling back.

“So is that what you want _me_ to do?” Ian asks, his skin practically fizzing with anticipation.

More nodding, “YES!”

“Right,” Ian moves off the couch, “We’d better get your clothes off then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Been cleaning up my computer this morning and found this in my "unfinished fic" folder. Thought I'd finish it off!
> 
> Also available in Russian here http://ficbook.net/readfic/2339945. Thanks to Poison for translating it!


End file.
